Today, I went and dove one of the loveliest shore dive sites in the Sound, the Keystone Jetty. It's a treat to be able to dive the site, because conditions have to be just right to make it a fun experience -- A small tidal exchange, and the perfect timing to avoid strong currents. I had been there once before, in October of 2005, four months after I learned to dive. I've been trying to get back ever since, but either the tides are wrong, or the weather is wrong (strong south winds will blow the site out). Today, we had light rain, no wind, and timed the dive perfectly.
When I dove here before, I was very new and very weak. I had terrible trouble with buoyancy control in my drysuit, and the little bit of current that came up at the end of our second dive really frightened me, and I called the dive because of it.
Today, as I hovered and back-kicked, and moved up and down in the water column, and kept track of my teammates and communicated with them, and monitored my gas consumption and twiddled with my valves (the ones I can reach, anyway), I kept seeing that other woman out of the corner of my eye. She was shaky and intimidated and largely unskilled, but she loved what she was doing and kept at it despite what seemed like insurmountable obstacles.
And today, her older sister had a wonderful dive.
And when we got out of the water, there was a pair of brand new divers (got their cards last weekend!) sitting on the picnic tables, grinning from ear to ear about the marvellous dive they had had. And I got to remember that elation and intoxication, of being completely surprised and delighted by everything one found under the water.
To anybody who's feeling new and perhaps a bit overwhelmed, keep at it! Even the least talented of us (me) can learn to be decent at this sport, and eventually enjoy a dive where everything really goes pretty right.
Except reaching the isolator, but we won't go there
When I dove here before, I was very new and very weak. I had terrible trouble with buoyancy control in my drysuit, and the little bit of current that came up at the end of our second dive really frightened me, and I called the dive because of it.
Today, as I hovered and back-kicked, and moved up and down in the water column, and kept track of my teammates and communicated with them, and monitored my gas consumption and twiddled with my valves (the ones I can reach, anyway), I kept seeing that other woman out of the corner of my eye. She was shaky and intimidated and largely unskilled, but she loved what she was doing and kept at it despite what seemed like insurmountable obstacles.
And today, her older sister had a wonderful dive.
And when we got out of the water, there was a pair of brand new divers (got their cards last weekend!) sitting on the picnic tables, grinning from ear to ear about the marvellous dive they had had. And I got to remember that elation and intoxication, of being completely surprised and delighted by everything one found under the water.
To anybody who's feeling new and perhaps a bit overwhelmed, keep at it! Even the least talented of us (me) can learn to be decent at this sport, and eventually enjoy a dive where everything really goes pretty right.
Except reaching the isolator, but we won't go there
